Quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson

Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
– Helen Hunt Jackson
All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; They only mocked her as they fell. She said: The daisy but deceives; 'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,' One story no two daisies tell. Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves Under the daisy's mocking spell.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote faster than I would write a letter - two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?
– Helen Hunt Jackson
But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
For April sobs while these are so glad, April weeps while these are so gay, - Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Friend, ahoy! Farewell! farewell! Grief unto grief, joy into joy, Greeting and help the echoes tell Faint, but eternal - Friend, ahoy!
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
I know the lands are lit,With all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Love has a tide!
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
O May, sweet-voice one, going thus before, Forever June may pour her warm red wine Of life and passions, - sweeter days are thine!
– Helen Hunt Jackson
O month when they who love must love and wed.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
Oh, write of me, not Died in bitter pains, But Emigrated to another star!
– Helen Hunt Jackson
On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.
– Helen Hunt Jackson
The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
– Helen Hunt Jackson